Ghosts. Pleasant ones.

To have sex with one ex girl friend, particularly when she's the first one you ever kissed, and the one with whom you shared those first shivers that come when your inner sexual world explodes (I actually think it's imploding, right now...) it's a one-time experience that really can make your day. Or your night.

She had already expressed interest in having a second round with me, some times ago, but we had decided (she did it, and I agreed) to not let us slip into that.

So, when I arranged the meeting while travelling southbound for some business, I only had in mind to pay her a long time postponed visit; I really wanted to see how she was doing, to have dinner with her, and share some thoughts, which has always been great fun; she's one of those few people with a very wide open mind (but not so wide that the brain will fall apart).

But, after dinner, while just letting her hug me while standing on the balustrade of the seaside pier, we kissed, and I couldn't prevent my desires flow freely, feel her so-much-soft lips; our bodies know each other so good that it only took a few strokes for her to climax hanging on my arms, my leg within hers.
So, once home it had been just a matter of (little, very little) time before we were laying on the large queen bed, me eating her pussy and her climaxing again and again and making the whole zone a bit wet: that's always been "her way".
We just did remember, sense, each other, again.

I had a wonderful time, and although I did have to wake up 5:45 am, those few hours were sound refreshing.

Thanks, my dear.


-- Posted from my iPhone

Dreadful.

I'll never do that again.
My second time with "a professional whore", a trans (again) working in a city where I was for some business, has been dreadful. Truly: never had anything worse. In so many aspects that I simply can't understand how I could not recognise the signs before, and flee...

Poor sexual feeling, physical impact quite far from expectations, emotionally discouraging, poor empathic capabilities. The she-male even stole me some money (on top of the one I gave her myself) and tried to convince me I was on the worse side of the argue, faked a police call to a friend, and locked me in her one-room house.
At least I made her lose more money form client than what she stole to me. In fact I reckon she decided to let me go when she saw I wasn't afraid anymore of the police coming in, a clear sign that I would have waited for her "ghost policeman" to come long enough for her to lose even more money.

Now I definitely rember why I had always refused the simple idea of having sex with these sort of people. I might have been lucky last (and my very first) time, but I dedinitely had been only sheer luck then.

Bleah...

-- Posted from my iPhone